


Where I Cannot Reach You

by WickedWiles



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood Spoilers, I'm Bad At Tagging, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Seriously What Do I Even Put Here, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21684133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedWiles/pseuds/WickedWiles
Summary: The former Azure Dragoon of Ishgard, prickly and stoic as ever. There's nothing soft, slow or gentle about him, on the battlefield or elsewhere.Or is there?
Relationships: Warrior of Light/Estinien Wyrmblood
Comments: 14
Kudos: 203





	1. Where I Cannot Reach You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon returning from the First, the Warrior of Light tries to take a moment to relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *struggling with writing*  
> Brain: You know what might help? Let's try something outside of our comfort zone; just some quick, dirty, straight up porn, no emotional baggage or plot nonsense.  
> Me: ...why would that...? *shrugs* I guess I can give it a shot.
> 
> AKA
> 
> I'm addicted to Elezen men and needed a fix.
> 
> The Warrior of Light here is female, but undescribed and unnamed, as I don't really headcanon any of my specific ladies with Estinien as of yet. Feel free to make of her what you will!

The thud of armor hitting the stone floor was always a satisfying sound, combined with the caress of air on her skin and the new lightness in her limbs. She didn’t strip it all off often, outside of needing to bathe, but the sanctuary of her room above the Rising Stones was one of the few places where she could remove the Warrior’s façade, let go of Light and Darkness, and just…be.

Still it was difficult to be this vulnerable, even here. A leg up on the chair to balance as she unbuckled the second of her greaves, back to the open balcony door, and her bangs falling over her eyes, she would never manage to mount a defense in time, were something to happen. No matter how safe she was, her instincts always screamed at her, homing in on every little noise, every slight shift of movement as the firelight danced. Too many days on the battlefield, too many close calls. Too many people that saw her as their only obstacle to whatever it was they were after. She’d had to get very good at relaxing while still being completely on guard; it was the only way she ever got any sleep. The last of her leg armor fell to the floor, and she worked her way up the buckles on her torso, still leaning over the front of the chair.

Perhaps it was harder to ignore than usual because part of her was still expecting…something. Maybe it had been her imagination, made overactive by the exhaustion of flitting between worlds, but her focus balanced on a razor’s edge regardless, just short of giving in to the rush of anticipation.

The chest piece made another fulfilling thud as it hit the ground with the rest, and she straightened, stretching her arms over her head as she arched her back. Movements purposefully slow, she forced her hands to steady as she undid her braid, removing the golden pin from the top. Had there been another, slightly heavier noise behind her as she’d dropped her armor? The barest whisper of breath as the slight breeze ruffled her light blouse? She shook her head, letting her hair fall freely down her back, clutching the ornate pin in her palm, the sharp spike of it laying flat against her wrist.

Even alert as she was, there was barely enough warning for her to turn before his weight slammed into her, pinning her against the wall, his arm across her throat, the hand holding her makeshift weapon held over her head in his vice-like grip.

Steel blue eyes burned into hers, silver hair falling over them slightly, and she could not help but feel some small amusement that he’d not thought to do anything different with it, now that he no longer had the helm to keep it out of the way.

“What in the _hells_ were you thinking?” His voice was soft, hissed through his clenched teeth. “After he almost gets you killed in the Ghimlyt with that godsdamned stunt of his, you just…go hopping across the rift to his world because he _asked nicely_?”

She wedged her leg between them, planting a foot on his thigh, using her leverage from the wall to push hard, and he was sent stumbling backwards. He recovered swiftly, as she knew he would, but she would not give him the opening to corner her again.

“What difference does it make to _you_? Do you have designs on becoming my nursemaid now?” She was breathing harder than she would have liked as she advanced on him, still holding the hairpin like it was one of her knives. Not imagining things, then; she had seen the glint in his eyes when he’d turned to leave earlier, the tell-tale set of his lips that told her he was unsatisfied with the end of the conversation, that he would be back ere long.

He snorted, shifting his footing to match her approach, and they circled slowly around the room, like wild beasts sizing each other up. “ _That_ dubious honor I leave to the boy.” He eyed the pile of her armor on the ground for a moment, nudging it out of the way. “You are far too important to go running off so damned recklessly, without telling anyone where the hells you’re going.”

“ _You_ are lecturing _me_ about running off, Wyrmblood? Was it not _you_ who dropped me in Aymeric’s arms and then vanished without a word?” His mouth twitched slightly, and the brief flicker in his eyes told her that one had hit deeper than he would have liked; she felt a brief moment of regret, but some part of her craved the vindication. It had stung her deeply as well, to awake only to be told he had long since departed after her rescue. “Should I have sat by and twiddled my thumbs, waiting for you to grace us with your presence while a world died?” She bared her teeth at him with a sharp bark of laughter. “And as you said yourself, not a bell past…here I am, none the worse for wear.”

“Do _not_ play cavalier with me, woman.” A low growl punctuated his words. “You damn near _died_. _Again._ Did you think I would hear naught of it?”

“Considering how you’ve been avoiding Tataru’s calls, I find it harder to believe that you _did._ ” She shifted her own weight as they continued their slow maneuvering, tense and ready to spring at a moment’s notice. “And why should that vex you? ‘Twould hardly be the first time, and full well we know it will not be the last. If you plan on coming to harass me on every occasion, you will find yourself hard pressed for time.”

He was still damnably fast, not having lost any of his edge since the last she’d seen of him; even so, she was ready, and when he charged she sprang nimbly to the side. Grabbing the lance strapped on his back, she pulled hard, using her momentum to throw him off balance. His momentary stumble turned into a roll, and he lashed back out with a long leg, forcing her to leap backwards.

It had been a while since she’d truly sparred with anyone, and even longer since it’d been him, but the familiar thrill rushed through her, warmth painting her skin. He crouched low to the floor for a moment, glaring up at her, considering his next move, and again she could feel the feral energy that crackled through the very air.

Fury, but it was _beautiful_.

 _He_ was beautiful –

_– his eyes glowing like embers, reflecting the faint light from above, the contours of hard muscle barely outlined against the low crate, the darkness of the Forgotten Knight’s small cellar clinging to their skin as she moved above him, warm buzzing of the spirits that had failed to drown her grief still coursing through her blood, sinking into bliss born of frustrated rage –_

He sprang towards her again, and she sidestepped, thinking to dodge him once more. At the last moment, he shifted his weight, following her movement, and they tumbled to the floor together. Rolling, she tried to gain control of the grapple, but he wound up on top of her, his knees pinning her thighs and his hands around her wrists. Her hairpin went spinning away across the stones, clattering to a halt somewhere unknown.

Glaring in silence, struggling for breath, they remained still for a long moment before he leaned down, his hair falling around her face like a silver curtain.

“Not like that. Not where…where I cannot reach you.” His breath was warm on her skin, and his lips pressed against her cheek gently, almost tenderly.

It was the first thing he’d done since he arrived that surprised her, a step out of time from their familiar dance; hissing and snarling, hunting and circling, the struggle for dominance, the claiming of their mutually sought prize before they went their separate ways again. Her heart raced in an entirely new way, sending a shiver down her spine, though whether it was born of fear or excitement, she could not begin to say.

“Estinien…”

He silenced her with a fierce kiss, driving his tongue between her lips, and she relaxed slightly. This was something expected; this she could handle. She fought back with her own tongue, clashing against his, pressing back hard against him. When he pulled back, she caught his bottom lip between her teeth, biting down just hard enough to elicit a low growl.

Releasing his hold on her hands, he yanked the front of her shirt, pulling her up with him as he got to his feet. She felt the fabric give, heard the tell-tale ripping sound, but it would hardly be the first garment to fall victim to one of their meetings, and she paid it little heed as they came together again, mouths hungry and searching. She gave as good as she got, and she was fairly certain she heard something of his meet a similar fate in their frenzied rush to be rid of that which dared separate them. His lance hit the floor with a ringing noise that reverberated around them, unnoticed.

The urgency of it only heightened her excitement, as usual; the desperation that drove them both, the intoxicating hunger that danced on the edge of a complete loss of control. Even on the rare occasion when they’d not gone what felt like an age between meetings, it never lessened the energy of it. Two burning souls, seeking relief that could only be found in the other.

Sparing only a brief moment to rake his eyes over her now bare form, he spun her around, wrapping his arms around her from behind. Her eyes half-closed as he trailed rough kisses down her neck.

One of his hands dipped down, sliding along the smooth planes of her stomach, until he slipped it between her legs, and she cried out before she could stop herself, her back arching.

“Someone’s been lonely…” He hummed smugly against her skin, his fingers continuing to dance expertly between her folds. “So _eager_ …”

“S-says the man…oh, _gods_ …who literally _threw_ himself at me…” she panted. “How do you know that I did not have… _plenty_ of most _willing_ …c-company while I was there…” Her hips ground back against him, his own need hot and evident between them, pressing into her skin.

He growled again and bit down, hard and possessive, marking the junction of her neck and shoulder, and she smiled even as she gasped at the sensation. There’d been no one but him, of course, not since that first time in the Churning Mists –

– _coarse bark scraping against her back, where unbuckled and hastily pushed aside armor had exposed skin, cold wind stinging against beads of sweat, not enough to distract from the dizzying pleasure of each thrust, her cries muffled against him as she bit down on his shoulder, lost in his wanton grunts and moans next to her ear, the feeling of his fingers digging into her waist and hips-_

Not that there couldn’t have been, if she'd ever had the time or the inclination to find someone. This was nothing formal, nothing defined; for all she knew, he could have found others to occupy his time, and the thought most certainly _did not_ send a jealous twinge through her racing pulse.

Reaching up, she tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling, forcing his head up, his hungry moan hot against her ear. His free hand found its way up to her breast, rolling the taut nipple between his fingertips, and she rewarded him with another cry, shivering with the jolt of ecstatic heat that coursed through her. Her hips bucked mindlessly against the hand caressing her soaked core, her legs beginning to tremble as he slipped his fingers inside.

“Tell me you missed me.”

Her eyes flew wide in shock at his whisper. They rarely spoke once things had gone this far, leaving only the sounds of their surroundings and the primal noises of pleasure to mark their union. And never, _never_ like _that_ , more of a plea than a command, his voice husky and full of a need that went far beyond mere lust.

“What…ah!” His fingers curling inside her knocked the breath from her lungs as she tensed and came undone, clenching around him. All the strength ebbed from her legs, and she was held up only by his arms as she shook, her head tilted back to rest on his shoulder, tightening her fingers in his hair. Dimly she was aware he was moving, pulling her down with him on to the bed – they’d never done this anywhere with anything remotely resembling a bed before, now that she thought about it – never letting go, continuing to stroke her through her release as they lay on their sides, his heat and racing heartbeat throbbing against her back. She could see the aether-tinted sky over Revenant’s Toll through the still-open balcony doors, hazy and shifting.

“ _Tell me._ ”

Had she missed him? Her mind wandered through the haze of pleasure, through the chaos of the last few moons.

“What do you want to hear?” Her voice was shaking when she finally found the ability to speak. “That I took the thought of you to another world?”

His hand slid down over her thigh, lifting it slightly, and she forgot to breathe again for a moment as she felt the tip of him begin to press into her. His lips whispered over her ear, teeth scraping along the lobe.

“That when I was alone in my room, under that never-ending light, it was the memory of your lips, your hands, _you_ that had me coming apart until I was exhausted enough to sleep?”

He groaned against her shoulder, thrusting forward, sheathing himself fully in her warmth, and she struggled to keep her focus as he set a swift, relentless pace.

“That I held myself apart from the celebrations each time we reclaimed the night sky, so I could cry your name in bliss to the stars of Norvrandt?”

His breathing was ragged, and from what little she could see of his face, his eyes were blown wide and dark, focused on her body in front of him with a thrilling intensity.

_That your voice was the one I heard in my mind, telling me to hold on as I fought to keep my soul from splintering._

The feeling of him moving inside her was almost too much, too difficult to think against. One arm trapped under her, fingers still tangled in the ends of his hair, she moved her other hand to gently trail down his jawline, an odd juxtaposition to their fierce communion.

“Is that what you want to hear?”

“ _Fury…please…_ ” He craned his head forward, caught her lips in a wild, clumsy kiss as he continued to drive them both towards the edge, moaning into her mouth. “ _Did you…?”_

The answer came easily, more so than the ability to speak it, to admit that there was anything more to this than another feral coupling, a release of unspoken needs free from thought. It was the first step on an unfamiliar path, one she was not certain either of them was ready – or able – to walk. Letting the heat and the rolling waves of pleasure tie her tongue for a moment more, she hesitated. She did not fear any sort of retribution if she did not answer; he would not tease or torment, withhold their relief for his own purposes. Not that he would ever admit it, but she knew him well enough to know it was too akin to _manipulation_ for him, having been lied to, used all his life. By the false faith of Ishgard, by Nidhogg…by his own rage and hatred.

Ah, but she was not one to hold back either.

“ _Yes_ …I…a-ah, _Estinien_!” Stars burst in her vision as he drove up _hard_ , finding just the right spot to have her jerking wildly against him. “All of that and _more_ …”

Their mixed shouts of ecstasy echoed off the stone walls; he arched forward, slamming into her with almost violent force as he throbbed inside of her, and she unraveled around him with an intensity unmatched by anything she’d yet experienced from him.

How long it was before they finally stopped moving, before the warmth of him pulled away from behind her, she couldn’t say, but it felt like it happened all too soon. She knew the steps to come by heart; he returned to clean them both, fastidious as ever. And after…one or the other of them would depart without a word, leaving the other to go at their leisure.

He turned to rise from the bed, his task completed.

Her hand snaked out and brushed against his, not grabbing or trapping, just a gentle invitation, and it was his turn to look down at her with a momentarily shaken expression.

“Stay.”

Lingering in each other’s company afterwards; another thing they never did. But it seemed so many of their unspoken rules had fallen by the wayside already.

It was a long, tense moment before he took her offered hand in his own, twining their fingers together as he settled back down. She rolled over to face him, their clasped hands held between them as silence reigned, burning in their fixed gazes, until sleep finally claimed her.

She awoke without opening her eyes, as was her habit; better to evaluate her surroundings, the changes in sounds, scents, and sensation before alerting any to her awareness. Her mind raced through the remnants of their encounter, feeling the slight ache from the bruises where he’d gripped her, the silken feel of a few strands of his hair that had come free in her grip, still trapped in the fingers that hadn’t been holding his when she’d drifted off.

Her heart faltered for a moment as she considered what she might find when her eyes did open.

Had he vanished, as was his wont, and likely for the last time, given how many lines had been crossed? There was certainly no going back to exactly how things were before.

Or would her sight find steely blue looking back at her, and an entirely new set of uncertain possibilities held within?

She didn’t know which one she hoped for as she took a deep, steadying breath, and opened her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brain: ...what part of 'no emotional baggage' did you not understand?  
> Me: *hefts giant suitcase* I have no idea what you're talking about.
> 
> In hindsight, using everyone's favorite prickly boi who is literally a yawning chasm of emotional issues was probably not the best choice for a scenario that was supposed to have no strings attached. >.>;


	2. What Came Before: The Churning Mists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prequel sequel, whee!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't going to have multiple chapters, but I couldn't resist going a little further into how this unnamed WoL found herself tangled up with Dragoon McGrumpface.

“If you insist on lurking, have a care. I might take you for one of these beasts next time.”

She did not turn her head to look at the sound of him leaping down from his perch somewhere behind her in response to her words, considering the fallen foe at her feet instead. It hadn’t been much of a fight, and the realization only fanned the flames of her ire. Finally, she deigned to glare back over her shoulder at the dragoon.

“Not content to question Alphinaud’s capabilities? Must you come to cast doubt on mine as well?”

He lifted his visor, the dark blue of his eyes flicking between her and the sizable corpse. “My concerns for his safety were not unfounded.”

She snorted, kicking the remains lightly. “If you believe these things to be a challenge for either of us, you have not had your eyes open for the last few days.”

“And yet you follow my advice nonetheless.”

“I dislike idle waiting.” She turned, crossing her arms over her chest. “You do him a disservice, treating him like a child.”

He arched a brow at her. “’Tis not the boy’s capability I doubt, merely his focus. He _is_ distracted of late, as are _you_ ; twitching about camp like a wild beast ready to jump out of its own skin.”

“Aye, listening to you and Ysayle snipe at each other for hours on end has done _wonders_ for my calm,” she snarled, stepping forward and pressing an accusatory finger to his armored chest. “You gave Alphinaud your word, and yet you _persist_ in making comments that you _know_ will set her off. And of course, she just _has_ to rise to every occasion. I have half a mind to tip you both over one of these cliffs, so you will pardon me if I seem a bit on _edge_.”

She moved to push past him, pausing only when she felt something grip her arm. Her eyes met his, not even bothering to look down at his gauntleted hand.

“Let go.” Her tone was soft, but full of steel.

He did not speak or loosen his hold, but simply watched her, searching her face for gods-knew-what. Whatever he found, it must have struck some chord with him, as the corner of his lips curled into the slightest of smirks. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever seen them set into anything other than a scowl before; it suited him, though it certainly wasn’t making her pulse race, and her thoughts weren’t wandering to what other expressions might prove equally becoming from him. And she absolutely did not consider what his lips might feel like, thinner than some but no less soft…

 _Stop that._ She crushed the thoughts she wasn’t having ruthlessly, turning her attention back to the simmering irritation that still threatened to boil over.

“Remove your hand.”

Her voice was just as soft as before, though no less forceful. He tilted his head to the side, a glint of something akin to both a challenge and an invitation in his eyes.

“ _You_ are the vaunted Warrior of Light. Remove it yourself.”

He was fast, but not quite fast enough; he ducked to the side, and the blow meant for his face caught the side of his head, knocking his helm askew. She followed it up with a quick strike to his chest, and though he stumbled back a few paces, he kept his grip on her.

Abandoning the helm swiftly, he pulled her close again, trying to trap her arm behind her. She twisted, using the momentum to barrel into him and send them both to the ground. The breath knocked from both their lungs, he finally relinquished his hold, and she scrambled to her feet.

His silvery-white hair whipped around his face in the wind as he righted himself as well, eyeing her warily, and for a moment she could not help but chuckle quietly to herself.

_White hair. Why do all the most infuriating men in my life have white hair?_

The sensible tactic at this point was clearly to disengage, to return to camp as she’d intended.

Sensibility had never been one of her strong points.

Her next strike went low, attempting to send him back to the ground, but he danced out of reach with ease before leaping back towards her. Stepping to the side, she realized too late that it was exactly what he was counting on, as he landed just behind her and spun the haft of his lance around. She ducked before it could strike her shoulders, but as she straightened he took advantage of the opening to drive it towards her midsection, knocking the wind out of her again and forcing her back until he had her pinned against one of the twisted, barren trees.

Lance held across her chest, just below her shoulders, he leaned in and growled softly at her, their faces mere ilms apart. It was a poor choice of positioning, she noted absently, to hold it there instead of across her neck; it was practically an open invitation to break free if she wanted.

It came as something of a shock to realize she didn’t really want to.

Her blood still sang, white-hot and hungry, but she couldn’t quite place when it had gone from being less about her anger, and more about…something else.

They glared at each other in silence until finally he began to relax his hold on the lance. Slowly, as if unsure whether or not she might still take the opportunity to strike at him again, he pulled it away, letting it fall to the ground beside them. The moments dragged on, each small eternity seeming to find them a hairsbreadth closer to each other, a slow, inexorable pull that they neither acknowledged nor denied.

When he closed what little distance remained to claim her lips with his own, it was not the contact itself that surprised her; rather, it was the rush of relief that accompanied it, as if she’d been wasting away without knowing it and was finally offered sustenance.

His tongue slid insistently between her lips, and she yielded unusually quickly, letting him taste her for a moment before pushing back with her own and thrusting her fingers into his hair.

The dam now broken, slowness and hesitation were swept away, as if no pause in the pace of their confrontation had ever occurred at all. Frenetic fingertips clawed and tore at straps and buckles, shoving metal and leather haphazardly aside in their quest for warm, yielding flesh. Lips and teeth preyed on whatever vulnerabilities they could find, dark marks blossoming against flushed skin. Quiet curses were cut off, swallowed by crushing, hungry lips – _they were just as soft as she’d thought –_ as one or another grew frustrated with uncooperative clothing. Armor clattered noisily to the ground or hung still half-attached and awkward.

It was clumsy. It was savage. It was dangerous, and reckless, and foolish.

He dug his fingertips into her thigh, jerking it up roughly and holding it against his hip, his free hand ripping away her smallclothes. She snarled and curled her fingers in his hair, giving it a firm yank backwards, and he moaned, snapping his hips forward in response. A low, keening cry tore from her at the sudden intrusion, but he gave her no time to adjust, driving forward again and again with wanton abandon. Not that she wanted any hesitation or gentleness from him; the whole thing was startlingly, deliciously feral from one so aloof and reserved.

One who had to hold himself back, to contain what roiled within, just as she did.

There had been others, lain beside the flickering, snapping flames of campfires or in small, spartanly furnished inn rooms, in the past. Other lips that had sung her praises in empty, hollow words that meant nothing to her, even in the moment.

The dark blue of his eyes, darker still with the shadowed flame of desire, spoke volumes as they fixated on hers. His fingers dug into her flesh as if she were the only thing anchoring him to the world. And the primal, unrepentant, panting grunts and moans that slipped from him as they rutted like animals against the gnarled trunk; all of it made her feel more lovely, more desired, more _alive_ than she ever remembered.

Dancing on the edge of the precipice, a heartbeat away from tumbling into the void where control and restraint and _duty_ were naught but dust on the wind.

She bit down hard on his shoulder where his skin had been exposed, muffling her ecstatic cries against his skin. His answering growl was all the warning she had as he slammed into her even more vigorously, spurred on by the way she clenched around him, the angry red lines she clawed into his chest as she scrambled for purchase. She could feel the bark tearing at the places on her back where the skin was exposed, the stinging pinpricks of cold air against the beads of sweat running down her neck.

Her second scream was silent and wordless as she let her head fall back. He pressed into her hard, his body trembling as he gave a triumphant snarl against her skin, grinding his hips against hers as his wild release throbbed through her.

Their eyes met again as they fought for breath, the chill stinging her lungs. He stepped back, pausing just long enough to see that she didn’t collapse to the ground before he turned away.

“Here.”

She snatched at what he threw at her out of instinct and stared with momentary blankness at the small length of cloth. Realization dawned on her as he pulled another out for himself, and she cleaned herself quickly, without comment.

By the time she was done, and had started righting what clothes remained intact, he was almost fully armored again. Were it not for her own disheveled state, and the way his eyes were still blown wide when he glanced back over his shoulder, she might have thought it had all been a brief delusion born of fatigue and stress.

He watched impassively as she started refastening her armor, tightening the last of his own straps. She heard his footsteps retreat briefly, no doubt to retrieve his helm, but she did not stop to watch, letting the tree trunk support her weight once more as she slid down, trying to fix one of the straps behind her thigh; she didn’t trust her own balance at that particular moment.

His presence returned, looming over her. She glanced up just as he crouched down, leaning forward and bringing his face close to hers.

Warm breath mingled for a brief moment in the cold wind.

His fingers closed around the haft of his lance laying on the ground next to her. With a sudden rush of air, he was gone, landing lightly on the top of a rocky outcropping some distance away. The slightest of glances over his shoulder, and then he was lost to her sight.

Her armor restored to its proper place, she let out a long sigh, leaning her head back against the trunk. The wind whipped around her, wild and howling.

The Warrior of Light allowed herself the smallest of wicked, satisfied smiles before she stood and headed back towards their camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was wrapped up in a hurry and not proofread as much as I'd like. If there's anything that stands out as a glaring mistake, please let me know!


End file.
